


Seasons by Design

by Incessant_Darkness



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Child Abuse, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Summer Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet examination of the intractable relations between Midorima Shintaro and Akashi Seijuro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter

### WINTER

 

Midorima Shintaro had just finished brushing his teeth for the night when he heard the insistent buzzing of his phone through the thin wall that separated his room from the bathroom. He walked the short seven steps from the sink to his desk and was peering at the display with a mild sense of trepidation as it continued to vibrate against his palm.

_AKASHI SEIJURO_

That was unusual; Shintaro had expected an inane plea for course notes from Aomine, or the over-friendly advances of Kise. Before the ringing could stop, and without having made the decision to, Shintaro was answering, rationalizing it with the assumption that Akashi of all people would not call without purpose.

“ _Shintaro?”_ The voice that reached Shintaro’s ear was far more hesitant that he was ever used to hearing. It had never occurred to him until that moment that though Akashi’s voice was typically soft, he’d never had to strain to hear it as he did now.

“Akashi? What is it?”

*

 

Shintaro knew better than to be wandering the streets of Tokyo at five minutes past eleven in little more than shoes and his winter coat thrown over his pyjamas. He knew better and yet that was precisely what he was doing; he didn’t have to go far.

Not more than two blocks from his house, Shintaro found Akashi standing at the corner of a pedestrian crossing and a leaning alleyway. His red hair was lackluster despite the surreal gleam of the light from the streetlamp above and his skin had an unearthly pale glimmer to it. Faint drifting snow had begun to fall from the dark, pregnant clouds above, and Akashi stood with his arms crossed over his chest, feet bare, in little more than a thin silken shirt and matching pants.

Naturally, Akashi had heard the approaching footsteps; when he looked up the first thing that caught Shintaro’s eye was a dark bloom— the colour of crushed velvet— which painted across the left side of his face.

There was silence; stillness. Nothing but the snow moved.

Shintaro felt himself break the moment by shrugging off his jacket, wrapping it around Akashi’s slighter frame. He was shivering, and Shintaro could only imagine how long he’d walked through this late winter cold-snap to stand where he was standing.

*

 

Shinatro carried Akashi back. Not because he couldn’t walk, but because he hadn’t been wearing shoes and the thought of those bare feet being exposed to the cold cement any longer than they already had made Shintaro cringe.

 _“I can walk._ ”Akashi had protested, prideful even then, but Shintaro had merely ignored him, and Akashi for all his bravado had made no move to leave his arms.

The both of them were frozen and shivering by the time Shintaro managed to push through his front door. He set Akashi down just inside and toed off his shoes, fastidiously rubbing his hands together even when it loosened the neurotically wrapped bandages on his left hand.

A pang of guilt shot through Shintaro when he saw his mother standing in the kitchen waiting with the kettle on. She had work in less than four hours and Shintaro hated to think that she was still awake because of him but he said nothing in that moment.

Akashi stood on the threshold to the kitchen, his body still wrapped in Shintaro’s jacket, his head ducked just enough that he didn’t quite fit the image of omniscience that he normally projected.

“Make him tea Shintaro, I’ll run the dear a bath.”

Akashi barely avoided flinching as she walked past him, and Shintaro frowned, beckoning him closer. He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and set it next to the stove as he seated Akashi in it, letting him bask in what menial warmth he could glean from the single burner. 

Only a minute passed before Shintaro was pressing a warm cup of tea into Akashi’s numb fingers. There were no words exchanged between them. Akashi plainly avoided all eye contact and offered up no explanations, and Shintaro dutifully fulfilled the expectation of silence on his part.

It was hardly difficult to deduce what had happened at any rate, and Shintaro was well aware of the fact that Akashi would never suffer the humiliation of recounting the incident out loud, least of all to him. He was stirred from his thoughts by the call that the bath was ready.

Though Akashi hid it well, Shintaro could see that he had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling as he came to his feet. Setting aside two mostly full cups of tea, he led Akashi to the bathroom, only taking the jacket from his shoulders at the last moment.

The steam from the bathroom licked at their skin, and Shintaro watched the hair on the back of Akashi’s neck stand on end in response.

“I can manage for myself.” Akashi’s voice was subdued but firm; Shintaro who had been about to offer his help simply shut his mouth without argument and let the bathroom door slide shut between them.

*

 

When Akashi emerged from the bath he was wearing the clothes Shintaro had left for him. They hung a little loose on his slighter frame, but Akashi had taken the time to roll up the hems so that he managed to salvage a casual air of refinement despite the lack of fit.

The effort was utterly undermined by the garish purpling that marred the otherwise fair skin of Akashi’s face. Whatever the remediating effect of the cold night air when Shintaro had first laid eyes on Akashi’s injuries, it had been reversed by the heat of the bathwater. The bruise now looked viciously deep, and faintly unnatural, as though a bottle of indigo ink had been splashed against Akashi’s left temple and smooth cut of his cheekbone, left to sink into the skin.

The injury looked painful in its own right which was why Shintaro was surprised that he’d reached out to touch it, and doubly so when he wasn’t reprimanded for the presumption of permission by Akashi.

Upon closer examination, Shintaro saw that a great many of the delicate capillaries in Akashi’s left eye had burst, leaving it terribly bloodshot. There was a hollow sort of anger in him upon realising just how hard Akashi had been struck, but he supressed the emotion, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. Beneath the tender flesh, he was relieved to find that orbital bone seemed intact, though by that point his prodding fingers had earned him an irritated glare.

“Are you quite done?”

Shintaro withdrew his hand and stood. “It needs to be iced.” Instead of retreating to the kitchen though, he reached to the shelf above his desk and pulled down what was an almost absurdly large first aid kit.

From within, Shintaro methodically retrieved a rectangular cloth patch and peeled away the backing on it. Taking Akashi by the chin—the presumption was taken more gracefully this time—he placed the patch and with careful fingers, pressed it into place.

The sensation of cold was apparent in the way Akashi’s muscle contracted, Shintaro didn’t need Akashi’s particular skills to see that much. A tentative hand had the inclination to reach for the newly placed patch; Akashi caught himself and let the arm drop, but not quickly enough.

Shintaro took the arm by elbow, and the sleeve slid down Akashi’s forearm as he lifted it, revealing the blushed hue of Akashi’s wrist.

“It’s a sprain.”

The wrist, Shintaro knew, was a delicate joint, with eight bones that sat against the two of the forearm and a number of them could break without it being obvious. All the same, he knew the futility of arguing his point against Akashi and so he simply took the joint in one hand as he reached for a set of pressure bandages with the other.

The wrapping was done with the typical neurotic obsession that Shintaro masked his fingers with, but Akashi did not utter a word of complaint. Instead he sat compliant until the bandage had been secured with a metal clip and then drew his hand away, shaking the sleeve of his shirt back into place.

“Is that everything?” It was next to impossible not to be skeptical of the simple affirmative nod that Akashi responded with, but Shintaro didn’t push. He never did when it was plain that Akashi was not at his best, and in the moment it was obvious that Akashi Seijuro was as far from his best as Shintaro had ever seen him.

*

 

That night Akashi slept on the futon that Shintaro had laid out beside his own.

The morning that followed was a strange affair. It had always been Akashi’s regimen to go for an hour long morning jog; without spare clothes, or even shoes however, that was out of the question. The situation clearly left Akashi frustrated, but for once Shintaro didn’t mind being on the receiving end of that agitation. In that fashion, they waltzed gingerly through a modest breakfast before settling down amidst a mutual ambivalence.

“You are not focusing.” The reprimand had more edge to it than Shintaro felt he deserved for his not entirely unexpected mistake against Akashi in their fourth game of shogi that morning.    

It had been an unforced error the likes of which Shintaro had not made in nearly a year but he was unperturbed by it. More specifically, Shintaro was paying far more attention to Akashi than he was the game.

It wasn’t beyond Akashi to notice, even in his disquieted state. “Shintaro.” He warned.

“I know.” And he did.

*

 

Akashi spent three days at Shintaro’s house; by the third, the bruise had faded to a stagnant green-black that resembled the marbled infection of algae across still water—the wrist had healed.

Akashi told him as much as Shintaro watched him unwind the bandages amidst the gathering morning light which slid in to chase away the waning dark of night. The wrappings pooled in a coiling pile in Akashi’s covered lap, a white snake against the black of the blanket. Pale fingers flexed briefly before they settled, clasped loosely.

“It’s early.” Too early for the cruel metal edge of Shintaro’s frames to have been digging into his temple; he had slid his glasses on but not bothered to lift his head from the warmth of his pillow.

“Go back to sleep Shintaro.”

“You’re leaving?” Oddly, Shintaro caught himself holding his breath as he waited for what he already knew would only be confirmation of his expectations.

“Yes. I expect my truancy will not be tolerated for much longer.”

*

 

Shintaro saw Akashi to the door. The offer of a spare jacket and slippers had been refused, and a discreetly expensive black car was idling just outside.

The harsh nip in the air didn’t stop Shintaro from stepping out after Akashi, both of them frozen for a moment of silence in lieu of awkward parting sentiments. And then Shintaro ruined it all by exhaling a few rushed words, “You’re always welcome here.”

The response Akashi gave was if anything colder than the brisk morning air itself. “I needn’t have to remind you that _this_ never happened.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty typical story, but I felt the urge to tell it anyways.


	2. Spring

### SPRING

The sky was an unusually brilliant shade of azure after nearly a week of unseasonably damp, grey spring rain; Shintaro didn’t notice. The whole of his attention was fixed on the even more remarkable sight of Akashi standing on his front step, a duffle bag swung over one shoulder, an impatient tilt to his head as he looked towards the welcoming cool deluge of shadow that was the front hallway.

Collecting himself, Shintaro stepped aside to let Akashi in. 

*

The unspeakably clear blue of the morning sky had been a feint, by mid-afternoon thick ashen clouds had moved in to unleash a torrential rain on the over-soaked earth, causing the streets to run ochre with mud.

Akashi stood gazing out through a crack in the rear screen door, a frown turning down his lips as he listened to the mad tinkling of a wind chime caught in the tempest outside. 

“It’s a shame.”

Shintaro struggled to let Akashi’s words penetrate him—his mind had been otherwise distracted by admittedly ridiculous possibility that his concern-driven preoccupation with his now ex-captain had somehow drawn Akashi to him.

“The rain?” Shintaro guessed correctly, causing Akashi to nod and turn back to him, the edges of two fingers dragging the screen door closed. “Why?” 

“The festival, I thought it would be…nice to attend one last time before I leave for Kyoto.” Akashi left hand came up to rub haphazardly at his eye. The rain sounded as though it wasn’t inclined to let up any time soon. “I thought it would be more convenient to attend from here.”

Shintaro ignored the fact that Akashi could have just as easily made the trip from his own home. “The weather should clear before the festival ends, you’re welcome to stay until then.”

The smile that graced Akashi’s lips then was almost genuine. 

“I had planned on it.”

*

“Kyoto suits you.” Shintaro said, frowning at the chess board. It was always a sign of Akashi’s mood for indulgence when he consented to a game of chess instead of shogi. Invariably, Shintaro would lose, but he could make a fight of it at least and that was meaningful in its own right.

“It would suit you just as well. Rakuzan offered if I’m not mistaken.” Akashi never was any longer and so it really went without saying, but the particular cadence of his voice made Shintaro smile wanly; the ease of it was something that Shintaro had found desperately lacking in their final year together, and it was a pleasant surprise to hear it again.

“Maybe, but that would defeat the purpose wouldn’t it?” Akashi’s lips quirked at the customary tick that lifted the end of Shintaro’s speech and shook his head as he watched Shintaro move his bishop. 

“I would simply have gone somewhere else, perhaps Shutoku even.”

“Kyoto suits you.” Shintaro repeated and Akashi paused in his gesture at taking the forsaken queen in his sight. The queen remained on the board and Akashi turned away, making no effort to mask the way his fingers shook at Shintaro’s words.

“The rain’s stopped.” 

“Yes it has.”

*

After the near constant downpour of the early spring the hazy blue ceiling of the sky looked impossibly high as Shintaro braved the lingering puddles to step out under it in Akashi’s wake.

A walk to stretch the legs Akashi had said, but never specified where and Shintaro had bitten back the insistent need to ask. At what point in their unplanned jaunt Akashi surrendered the lead Shintaro couldn’t be sure of, but when they finally stopped it was at the end of a path familiar to him and a glance from the corner of his eye was enough to confirm that Akashi wasn’t particularly displeased with were they’d ended up.

A low stone wall blocked the path they were on, and though it may well have continued on the other side of the wall at one time, now innumerable fresh sprigs of grass had raced up in a swaying field of sodden green to erase any signs of its once existence. Shintaro stepped over the wall with only a moment of difficulty and smiled privately at the disgruntled struggle that Akashi put up leaping over the same obstacle.

Once they had settled—Shintaro leaning against the stone of the wall, Akashi sitting atop it—the relative silence of their walk finally broke.

“Do you come here a lot?”

“I used to.” Shintaro confessed, surprised that Akashi had any inclination of curiosity towards him at all; it felt a foreign concept after so many years of the polar opposite. 

“Why?”

“You’ll see in a minute.” Shintaro was watching Akashi when the first sign of chugging locomotive appeared on the horizon and saw the way his eyebrows lifted with pleasant surprise. 

“I used to sit here and wonder where those trains were going, it seemed like the entire world would be open to me if I could just find my way onto one. Now I know they’re stuck on their tracks, going back and forth—running on a clock but…that’s a comfort in its own right, knowing where you’re going.” 

“Is it?” There was no intensity in Akashi’s eyes as he tracked the train in its straight arrow shot across their line of sight, instead there was a hint of restful acceptance.

“That would be for you to tell me.” Shintaro said softly, his fingers smoothing over the cool touch of stone to his back as he ignored the faint urge to smile for no reason at all.

“Maybe one day I will.”

*

The yukata was a familiar one, but it sat just right on Akashi’s shoulders and Shintaro knew it was a favourite. A blood-red dragon curled protectively over the white cloth, snaking around Akashi’s left side, jaws cracked to reveal elegant teeth that were embroidered just over Akashi’s heart. Shintaro helped secure the obi around his waist, swallowing the uncomfortable lump that rose in his throat at the warmth of Akashi’s body bleeding through the thin summer cloth. 

“What is it?”

Shintaro started and flushed at having been caught staring, and his mind galloped one way then another in a futile attempt to construct an acceptable excuse for his lingering eyes. In the end Midorima settled for some semblance of the truth. “White suits you.” The words had no sooner left his mouth than Shintaro realised how over-familiar they sounded.

Akashi chuckled softly and it left Shintaro caught between a frown and utter surprise. Before he could ask what exactly was so funny, Akashi spoke up. “Coming from you I’m almost inclined to believe it.”

“It’s the truth!” Shintaro protested. The flush in his cheeks spread to the very tips of his ears. He couldn’t explain even to himself why he hadn’t just let the matter drop. Akashi turned to face him and his elbow grazed Shintaro’s torso just enough to make his stomach jolt. 

Their eyes met and Shintaro thought Akashi appeared a little warmed by his words, but before he could confirm his suspicion with any certainty Akashi swept by him. “Come, the festival is waiting.”

*

Evening had begun in earnest by the time the sounds and sights of the festival came within reach. Simple paper lanterns had been strung up along the smaller alleyways that lead to the main thoroughfare and it made for a surreal sort of ambiance.

It was a matter of pride for Shintaro that he had only snuck half a dozen glances at Akashi from when they’d first stepped out of the house all the way up until the moment when their modest path threw them headlong into hustle and noise of the main crowd. Two children careened out of the knot of people in front of them, whipping by like a pair of hummingbirds and Akashi seamlessly took a half step back to avoid the collision out of pure instinct. Shintaro, having been transfixed by the sight of the vibrant festivities washing over Akashi had been a bit lax in his own attentiveness and found he couldn’t quite step out of the way of Akashi’s retreat quickly enough.

Instead, Shintaro brought up his hands, catching Akashi by the shoulders and stalling his momentum. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Shintaro dropped his hands quickly enough to render the moment forgettable. Akashi continued on, “I hadn’t expected there to be so many people.”

“The first two days were rained out. This is the last day of the festival.” As Shintaro spoke two more children burst from the crowd, giving chase to the first pair; this time he managed to avoid them. “It was bound to be crowded.”

“You’re right of course. Still, it’s nice, don’t you think?”

Nodding, Shintaro let Akashi lead the way to a more isolated corner of the festival. The mass of people only seemed to peel away from them as they approached the shadowed foot of the narrow staircase that led up to the shrine. In the same fashion as smaller streets surrounding the festival, the length of the staircase had been strung with humble little lanterns, and it was deserted but for the odd determined festival-goer who decided to brave the steep climb.

“Shall we go up?”

The suggestion startled Shintaro. “Yes.” He said, gritting down his disbelief. Akashi had never been a boy poised of any spiritual concerns, but Shintaro didn’t feel the need to insult Akashi by inquiring after it.

A moment later, as they begun the ascent Shintaro was rewarded for his tempered response. 

“I remember you always seemed more yourself after asking for your blessings.”

Shintaro didn’t hesitate in looking over at Akashi then. He didn’t hesitate in smiling either.

At the top Shintaro went through the familiar task of making his offerings, and then approached the single lonely shrine maiden from whom he purchased a charm. It was beautiful creation of rich red cloth surrounding a solid plate of wood that he could feel within. The pouch was strung with a cream tassel that had been threaded through a single red bead; the characters in turn were embroidered with cream and gold in an experienced hand.

Good fortune, it read as always.

“It’s agreeable up here.” Akashi who had held himself back approached then, his eyes still fixed on the thoroughfare below.

Shintaro finished tucking the charm into his sleeve and followed Akashi’s line of sight. The people below were a dark broiling mass, resembling more closely a single ever-changing organism than a collective of individual people.

“The families with small children will be leaving soon enough. If we wait here the crowd will thin out.” 

It was a reasonable enough prediction and Akashi didn’t argue against it, instead he offered up a wry smile. “That isn’t in the spirit of a festival is it?”

“Are you suggesting we go down then?”

“No.” There was not quite as much light at the crest of the staircase as there had been along its length and Shintaro was having a hard time reading Akashi’s expression for the feeble fleeting glow that lit it. 

“In that case, I know a way we could pass the time.” Though hesitant, Shintaro was filled with the inexplicable conviction that Akashi would not refuse his proposal in that moment. It was sweet victory to be proven right by way of a carefully raised eyebrow and the spark of curiosity in Akashi’s dimly lit eyes.

Turning from the edge of the staircase, Shintaro stepped towards the dark of the shrine instead, following a cobblestone path worn smooth by centuries of passing footsteps around to the rear of the grounds. 

The structure of the shrine had hidden the humble cluster of lamps that revealed themselves as Shintaro and Akashi rounded the south-west corner. The path forked in three, the left-most route traced back to the shrine, the right-most to an elaborate gate in the smooth perimeter wall. The center path however led to a low wooden bridge that arched over a small glimmering stream. 

A calm breeze swung the string of lanterns that were hung from two tall posts on either bank, and as tall as the posts were, Shintaro, with his stature still had to be wary of being bumped across the head by the lights.

Akashi had no such worries; the grace with which he navigated the narrow railing-free bridge to stand at the center of it next to Shintaro was enviable. It was all the more satisfying therefore, when Akashi jumped a fraction of an inch at the first barking grunt that interrupted the peaceful lapping water beneath their feet.

A white and pink mouth broke the surface of the water.

“Koi.” Shintaro confirmed, even as the explanation became superfluous. In but a moment, a small bucking knot of fish had gathered around the bridge, scaling over one another in the dark, making the water come alive with the fluid rippling of their sleek, muscular bodies.

The sound of Akashi’s surprised laughter was like summer rain, sudden and warm.

The pinpricks that were the lanterns reflecting in the water danced over the surface like drunken fireflies as the fish clamoured over one another, their movements growing less fervent, more fluid as it became evident that they weren’t going to be fed. 

“I suppose I owe you my gratitude.” There was a deferential tilt to Akashi’s head that accompanied the tightness around his eyes, as if it pained him to voice the words that came to him then. 

“What for?”

“This past year, you would categorize as difficult I imagine, though I don’t see it that way. Still, even I can admit it wasn’t ideal.”

Nothing resembling an appropriate response dawned on Shintaro and so he kept his silence, waiting for Akashi to continue.

“Without you Shintaro, I would have grown completely apart from this world, I think. For that you have my gratitude.”

A single red and white koi pushed up high enough over its collusion of companions to land half its body on the wooden slats of the bridge, wetting their feet as it thrashed, momentarily helpless. Shintaro watched it twist one way, then another and then slip back into the stream, disappearing amidst the slowly calming water’s surface leaving little more than faintly wet toes as evidence of its trespass into a world in which it did not belong. 

And for the briefest of moments, Shintaro couldn’t help but think that perhaps there was dragon lying in wait in the shallow little stream beneath their feet after all. 

*

By the time they found their way back down to the stalls and stages of the main festival a veil of clouds had assembled to close away the jeweled artistry of a clear night sky bright with stars.

“It’s going to rain.” Shintaro said, not to point out the obvious but as an indication to the offer of leaving. 

“Does that bother you?”

For a moment Shintaro considered it. There were more pleasant things than being soaked to the bone by a cold spring gale but, he thought, as he spotted Akashi waiting expectantly for his answer, flushed yellow and red and orange from the various lights that surrounded them, that there were worse things too.

“No. Your last experience of a Tokyo festival should be a memorable one.”

Amused, Akashi only spared Shintaro a shadow of a smile before he set his sights on one of the game stalls. 

“That umbrella.” Akashi pointed to a simple black and white oil-paper umbrella that took up a quarter of the prize wall. “What are the conditions for winning it?” The man behind the booth raised an incredulous eyebrow and named the terms, Shintaro couldn’t help but think the conditions unfairly steep in response to the cocky confidence with which Akashi had all but claimed the prize before even paying for a chance to play. 

All the same, it was no surprise to Shintaro when Akashi returned not a minute later with the umbrella resting comfortably on his shoulder. 

The first few drops of rain kissed the earth mere moments before the first of the fireworks reached for the heavens. The smooth treated bamboo shaft of the umbrella slid unasked into his hand and Shintaro held it above both their heads, swallowing the effervescent hummingbird his heart had morphed into at the branding heat of Akashi’s arm pressed to his. 

Unimpeded by a downpour that worsened from moment to moment, the fireworks blossomed in a triumphant sally, lighting up the low grey underbelly of the storm cloud ceiling. The rain did little to spoil the moment, Shintaro realised as he watched the fireworks paint Akashi’s eyes in red and gold and silver and green.

At the sight, courage boiled unbidden to sit heavy in Shintaro’s chest until he was hard-pressed to contain it. The balance tipped, overflowed, and Shintaro found the words that crouched at the back of his throat escaping with an ease he hadn’t expected.

“One day we’ll find each other again, and you will remember this. The here and now, this moment.” The words were spoken with such heady conviction that they brought a teasing smile to Akashi’s lips. It occurred to Shintaro that he hadn’t seen Akashi smile so much in three years as he had in this last short week.

“I never took you for a poet Shintaro.”

“You never took me for much.”

Akashi laughed, the sound true and clear as a bell. “Modesty doesn’t become you.” And when Shintaro was unreceptive to his words Akashi pressed on. “That hasn’t been true for me about you for quite a while now, but you knew that…”

Shintaro’s lips quirked in an approximation of a smile, his cheeks flushing with a light dusting of colour. “I never know when it comes to you, but I get the impression that you enjoy letting me know.”

A humming noise in the back of Akashi’s throat—a sound that was very plainly not a denial—was the only answer Shintaro received.

*

The overtaxed paper umbrella rested against the wall just inside the door. Shintaro had courteously allowed Akashi to bathe first, but didn’t resist changing out of his less than dry yukata before laying out their futons. If they were a few inches closer than strictly necessary it was merely a coincidence. 

By the time the lights were out and Shintaro was lying freshly bathed and acutely aware of Akashi’s presence not more than half a foot to his right, the cacophonous pounding of raindrops had died down to a comfortable white noise, leaving in its wake the burrowing clarity of their quiet breaths.

In spite of having discarded his glasses, Akashi’s proximity was such that Shintaro could make out the faint glimmer of his eyes open and staring back in the dark. And then the glimmer was gone, hidden behind pale eye lids and Shintaro exhaled carefully and turned to stare once more at the ceiling. 

That night, Shintaro discovered that Akashi’s even breaths at his side were a poorer lullaby than he remembered.

*

The morning found Shintaro holding open the door to a washed-out pale spring morning. Akashi had the duffle bag he’d come with neatly in hand but his footsteps dragged in the front foyer. 

In the act of shaking Akashi’s hand farewell Shintaro pressed the charm he’d purchased the night before against his palm. His immediate thought was it would be rejected but instead Akashi simply held his palm up between them, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

“What about you?”

“I’ll buy another one.”

Akashi’s gaze wandered to the paper umbrella resting beside the door, lingered for a moment and then he nodded, his hand closing over the charm in acceptance. “The next time I return to Tokyo we’ll meet on the court.” 

It was a promise that gave wings to an escape, Shintaro knew and he had nothing but a relieved reverence for it. He let that promise be their parting exchange and watched Akashi leave the storms of an unkind spring behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. This chapter is for everyone who made my day with reviews and responses.


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